The attitude of Nazareth, cont. (corrected)

Okay, perhaps the latter part of this post tends to obscure the first part, which is the message I really need to pay more attention to if I'm to not consign myself to living as a slave to the feelings at the end.  There's some good meat in there, though I was wondering if maybe I'd gotten ahead of myself/the Church a little by focusing on what was coming,  After all, Jesus' neighbors' response to him wasn't part of Sunday's Gospel, yet I found myself focusing on how applicable that reading is to our own lives and the reasons why we often fail to hear that this word is fulfilled in our hearing it.  I'm sure I've blogged on "hear" before in the context of Ps 95.  It means more than physical hearing, but understanding, as well.  "This passage" is indeed fulfilled to the degree that we hear and apply it to our own lives.  But just when I thought I'd plumbed too far and wouldn't have anything left for the coming week, we found fresh insight when we read the Gospel for this coming Sunday.

First, it is probably good for us to understand some of the religious, social and psychological perspective ot Nazareth.  As I understand it, the entire northern part of the kingdom of Israel was looked down upon by the Jews of the south because of their intermarriage and resulting idolatry following the conquering of the northern kingdom by Assyria, and these people's opposition to the repatriation of the southern kingdom following the Babylonian exile.  Galilee, north of Samaria, was disrespected right along with it as being impure in blood and faith, and Nazareth was considered basically considered the scum of Galilee.

Then one of their own sons goes abroad, and back come tales of the wonders that he has worked.  Now, the people must have thought, we're finally going to get the respect we deserve!  This miracle worker will show them that we aren't scum!  Yet they were also skeptical: it isn't as if three decades would erase the scandalous circumstances of Jesus' birth from their collective memory.  Surely no rose of deliverance could blossom from such sinful roots?  Ironically, the people of Nazareth use the same skepticism that Nathanael  would use when initially decried, "Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?" carrying it to the point of the later out-of-hand judgment and rejection of the Pharisees, "Look into it, and you will find that a prophet does not come out of Galilee."

This, then, is the sort of judgment we often use against ourselves - and against each other - to limit the ways we believe God will work in our own lives.  It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of doubt, and is what I referred to in my previous post as "the trap of Nazareth."

And even when we dare to share in the hope that they initially express, - "All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips." - we also tend to look for incontrovertible evidence that we are not placing vain hope in something that we have seen to be so flawed.  How can I be individually a part of the anointed Body of Christ, when I have seen how utterly, undeniably unworthy I am of such a role?  We sometimes want proof that God is working powerfully in our lives, and in the absence of some sort of miracle we interpret each stumbling as evidence that he is not.

In response to the signs for which Jesus knows his neighbors and kinfolk are seeking, he seems to offer a rebuke, invoking most renowned works of two of the greatest ancient prophets of Israel - even of their own region - and pointing out that these works did not benefit the many needy of their native land who were in similar need to the ones who were so blessed.  No wonder they wanted to throw him off a cliff!

But once again, their history is not so important as what it reveals about our own faith journey.  I am reminded of our visiting priest on Epiphany this year, who talked about what it truly meant for Israel to be God's chosen people.  They viewed it as a mark of privilege for their own benefit, that God would always be their provider and defender, at the expense of those around them.  "We are chosen, and therefore you are not!"  Yet this priest emphasized that what it means for us to be God's people is actually something very different.  Israel was, and we are, to be a light to the nations.  This is what it means to belong to God.  It isn't that we are privy to great wonders wrought on our behalf, but that we have the unfathomable privilege of God's light shining through our lives, of participating in his plan of salvation!  The wondrous works God has done have always been primarily about revealing his love to those who do not know him.  Thus it was for Jesus, too, and when we look for those works for some other purpose - for our own benefit or blessing - we may find ourselves angry at God for not serving us according to our own will.

So no, being a disciple of of Christ doesn't mean we will be free of the circumstances that are faced by many others around us who don't follow him.  It doesn't mean we are superior to them.  Rather, it means allowing God to be present in and work through our lives in whatever way best reveals the light of his glory to those who are still struggling, whether those ways be mundane or marvelous.  It always means having someone close to us who lends us strength and peace in the midst of even the darkest of our circumstances.  And it means continuing to follow rather than being filled with despair or anger when our prayers are not answered in the way we deem best.

But we can be assured that the Holy Spirit will reveal the Father's glorious plan of salvation no matter how humble our beginnings, no matter how great our failures, no matter how people might judge us or we might judge ourselves.  God's plan for us is always greater than we can imagine!

Today's word

mala fide \mal-uh-FYE-dee\ - with or in bad faith

I recognized what this word must mean right away, though I'd never encountered it before.  I was surprised, however, by its correct pronunciation, and that of it's sibling bona fide \boh-nuh-FYE-dee\, which I don't believe I've ever heard pronounced properly.

What does that mean?

Truth is not now, nor has it ever been, a matter of popular opinion.

I keep reading about how the Republican Party needs to change in accordance with the mandate of the people.  Basically, it's always how it needs to be more liberal.

I personally think the one Democratic Party we have is one too many already.

Today's words

nomothetic \nah-muh-THET-ik\ - relating to, involving, or dealing with abstract, general, or universal statements or laws

ideographic \ih'-dee-uh-GRAF-ik\ - relating to or dealing with something concrete, individual, or unique

Two great new words from one WOTD article.

of two minds

So I'm trying to figure out how I can say something like this, as I did last week:

We must avoid the trap of Nazareth.  We're told in this week's readings that we are collectively the Body of Christ and individually parts of it.  Then we hear that we have been anointed by the Spirit of God to bring glad tidings and healing, release and comfort, liberty and recovery of sight.  Yes, Jesus is indicating that these things apply to him, but we are his Body, so they apply to us, too, both collectively and individually.  The people of Nazareth would hear Jesus apply this ancient scripture, and they knew him, they thought.  This was Joseph's son.  They'd seen him grow up before their eyes.  The thought they knew his story, so his history interfered with their ability to recognize him for who he really is.  

The same thing happens to us.  Well do we know our own history, and it has too often not the been story of Christ's presence in the world.  Last week we heard the clouds open and the Father proclaim that He is well pleased, but we don't think either of these messages applies to us.  Our familiarity with our own story as we have experienced it interferes with our ability to hear the applicability of these messages to our lives.

 . . . and the next day and the next week, feel so hopeless. I mean, my team is in the Super Bowl, we're planning a short-notice party for Sunday, and mostly I'd really rather just curl up in a ball somewhere.  I'm not sure if it's just physical weariness or a general ennui more deeply rooted in my life, but being the joyful, beloved presence of Christ in the world feels far from me right now.

Messing up a blog coincidence

Before I wrote this post, I had 11, 087 hits on 1,187 posts.  Just more number weirdness.

Javert's dilemma

Have I seriously not blogged about Les Miserables?

I had a couple quibbles with the film, along with one major objection.  First, the quibbles: if I never hear Hugh Jackman sing another note through his nose, that will be okay.  That said: I thought his singing was passable, at least, and his acting was so far superior to his singing that I am glad he got this role.  My second quibble was with Russell Crowe as Javert, who seemed so vocally intimidated (just noticed "timid" in the middle of that word for the first time; duh) that he conveyed neither the certainty of his character through most of the story nor the contrast of his inner conflict at the end.  When he stepped off the bridge, while it was tragic, it felt impersonal, somehow, as I never felt I was connected with the person of Javert.  More on this, as I think I can really relate to this character in ways that transcend Crowe's performance.

But first, my major objection: can we please stop treating "love at first sight" like a noble thing?  Marius was really willing to leave the Resistance at this point in his relationship with Cosette?  Really?  At this point they had nothing more than an attraction for each other.  This had to have more development in the book than it received in the film.  Animal magnetism is not a virtue.

That out of the way, I'd like to return my thoughts to Javert's quandary, which obviously arose out of the conflict he could not resolve involving the inviolability of the law, the definition of evil, and a concept he utterly denied: the unalienable dignity of each human person.  (Okay, I'm sure with some thought I could come up with a summary that more closely reflects these issues as Javert experienced them; but I am writing from my own perspective, after all.)  His entire view of the world was deeply rooted in his convictions about human character and the nature of good and evil.  Obedience to the law was the only evidence of good that mattered, and violating it was incontrovertible proof that you were evil.  Solzhenitsyn's observation that the line between good and evil runs through every human heart would have seemed ridiculous to Javert.  I'm struck by his sense of certainty, his absolute conviction that there is no such thing as a circumstantial criminal, but that rather all criminals are primarily made by a fundamental and unchangeable flaw in their nature. The difference between the class of criminals and that of law-abiding citizens was purely the existence of this weakness, which could never be overcome.  The twisted nature of criminals would eventually work its evil no matter what transpired in their lives.  Therefore, it was essential that society protect itself from the harm of criminals by restricting their opportunity to commit future crimes, for it was inevitable that they would do so if they had a chance.  Furthermore, all violations of the law indicate the same flaw in human nature, an elevation of self over the good of society, such that every offense must be punished and every offender monitored.

So long as he was dealing with others' offenses against the law, his absolutism served him well both in his internal and external duties.  There was a clear line over which he must never cross, as should have been illustrated early  in the movie as he walked the ledge.  He was there not because he was enamored of the idea of stepping off, but because of how it reinforced his certainty of himself.  He knew, to the core of his being, that he was secure there; he would never step across the line.  The ledge was supposed to represent the danger of absolutism from the beginning, though Javert was not to recognize it.  Instead, in the film this seems to come across - either through Crowe's tepid performance or Hooper's direction - as an inner struggle that was waging even early in the movie, when I do not believe this was case for the character of Javert. His crisis would come later, and his certainty would be its crux.  By making Javert appear uncertain of himself early on, Crowe and Hooper undermine his crisis.  They also make his virtue - his commitment to the law is indeed virtuous, in a self-righteous sort of way - seem painted on rather than deep.

As long as Javert could dismiss Valjean's transformation as conditional and his righteous acts as self-serving, and particularly as long as Javert was not swayed to any dereliction of his own duty, he was fine.  To Javert, the law defines virtue, and as long as we uphold it we acts virtuously, as does he.

Yet Javert understands unconsciously that acting outside of one's own self-interest is also incontrovertible evidence of virtue, and it is Valjean's ultimate ability to do so that finally breaks Javert's self-certainty.  He finally cannot bring himself to capture (again) this man who repeatedly acts for the good of others when there is no gain in it whatsoever for himself.  In particular, the one act of mercy displayed to him, in contradiction of Valjean's own personal interest, results in Javert himself violating the law by refusing to apprehend this parole violator. His good deeds as shop owner, caring citizen, mayor, surrogate father, (and so on, in the book, evidently) were easy for the inspector to disregard as somehow self-serving, but in their final confrontation Javert has become convinced enough by Valjean's conversion that he is unable to act according to the law's commands - according to how he has always and unwaveringly defined virtue - and there is no authority to which he may submit his offense.

(I'd really like to read Hugo's book for more on his view on this.  I understand he includes entire essays expositing the moral underpinnings of his story.)

The trap of absolutism is dangerous.  It isn't that there aren't moral absolutes; rather, even scripture warns us not to judge others - or ourselves - according to them.  This is what a good friend realized when she worked so diligently to help me stop being so hard on myself.  When we insist on judging, we block mercy's healing, redemptive power.

Absolutism can take many forms, and being free from one of them doesn't prevent falling victim to another.